


Still See Your Ghost

by 3988Akasha



Series: Chicago [2]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back in Philly, Bass has to comfort Miles after some bad news which leads to an intense encounter with Rachel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still See Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timid_Timbuktu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_Timbuktu/gifts), [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).



> Basically I think I'm rewriting the show. Yep.

There was a large stack of reports waiting for Bass when he walked back into his office and he was glad to hear Miles behind him. Most of it would be pointless updates, or items he could delegate, but some would require his attention and knowing Miles was there with him, to help him, made him feel less tense about those decisions. As he settled in behind the desk, he watched Miles as he walked around the room. He saw the emotions chase each other across Miles' face and a had a moment of apprehension, fear that Miles would regret his decision, or would be unable to resume his place now that they were actually back in Philly. Then Miles undid his jacket and tossed it carelessly across the back of one of the chairs.

"Anything interesting?" Miles asked.

"The rebels are still attacking our supply lines, and they're getting more confident. It's making it difficult for us to collect taxes from the outlying areas, which in turn makes the men more insistent and the people more resistant," Bass answered.

Miles didn't say anything, but Bass could tell he was analyzing the situation, running through different scenarios, different solutions. It was nice to have someone else to help him come up with the big plans, with the major decisions. He had the colonels as counsel, but it wasn't the same; they were still his subordinates and he was expected to have the master plan, the Holy Grail of strategic answers to their problems. With Miles, he didn't have to be that person. He could admit he had run out of answers months ago and they would develop a course of action together.

A small, rolled up note was in the middle of the pile. As he unrolled it, Bass wondered why the messenger hadn't brought it to him directly, as that was protocol. It was a short note in neat upper case handwriting that he recognized before he saw the signature. Bass read the note several times, feeling his stomach drop a bit more each time he did. It wasn't possible, not now, not when things were finally going okay again.

"Bass?" Miles asked, concern in his voice.

Bass pinched the bridge of his nose and passed the note to Miles. He watched Miles' face as he read the note, saw the way his eyes took on a haunted, lost look that broke Bass' heart a bit more. He heard the paper crinkle as Miles closed his hand around it. His whole body was tighter than a bowstring and Bass was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, unsure of how Miles would react to the news. Part of him figured Miles would shoot him between the eyes. He didn't. He spun on his heel, and stalked towards the door. This was so much worse. Bass felt his heart rate accelerate; found it a bit difficult to breathe. He couldn’t do this, not again. Miles couldn’t be leaving, not this soon.

"Miles - " Bass called out before he really knew what he was saying. His voice broke a bit.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bass. I just - I need a minute," Miles answered, voice empty.

Bass wanted him to turn around, but he didn't. The door closed with a quiet sound that echoed through the room like a gunshot. Numbly, Bass stood from the desk, shuffled over to the sideboard, and poured two glasses of the strongest scotch he had. He lifted one with a shaky hand and gave a salute to the other glass.

"Ben," Bass took a steadying breath, "I never meant for it to come to this."

Bass threw back the liquor, feeling it burn through his body. He set his empty glass down next to Ben's full one and walked back to his desk. He hurt, losing Ben hurt. Knowing how badly Miles was hurting hurt him, too. His orders had been clear when he'd sent Neville out; he wanted Ben and Miles brought in alive. Bass wanted to dash down the hall to Miles' room and tell him that, beg him to believe him, but he couldn't. Miles had left, too. Miles knew he'd wanted information about the power, knew he thought Ben knew something about it. He couldn't change it now, no matter how badly he wanted to do so.

Instead of wallowing on things he couldn't change, which he was tempted to do, Bass finished going through the stacks of correspondence on his desk. As he'd thought, most of it would be given to others to deal with, but there was another note signed Neville. It seems Tom had left his son behind to trail after Ben's daughter, no doubt hoping she'd be able to flush out Miles. By the time he'd finished giving out various assignments, it was dark outside. Bass ordered dinner and gave instructions for it to be delivered to Miles' room. He needed to face him sooner or later, and he knew Miles would lock himself away forever if Bass let him get away with it.

Bass didn't bother knocking, he knew Miles would just ignore him. He walked into the room, and looked around for Miles in the darkness. Miles was slouched in the oversized chair he kept in front of the fireplace, a nearly empty bottle of bourbon dangling from his hand. Bass swore under his breath and walked over to the desk, found the matches and went around the room lighting the lamps before kneeling front of the fireplace to get a fire going. Even by Miles' standards, it was freezing in the room. Bass turned around and undid Miles' boots, thankful Miles was in a drunken stupor and wasn't fighting him on this.

"Come on, Miles," Bass said as he stood. He put Miles' arm around his shoulder and lifted him to his feet. "We need to get you in bed."

Miles mumbled something incomprehensible, but he at least tried walking. Bass rolled his eyes as he helped Miles stumble to the bed. Fortunately, Miles had always listened to Bass when he was drunk. It was one of the few times when Miles would reply with a simple "Okay, Bass". When Bass stopped to think about the implications of his easy acquiescence, it was staggering because it meant that Miles trusted him implicitly. He'd tested this once, back before the blackout, just after basic. They'd been drinking with some of the guys from their training unit and Miles had one too many that night. One of the guys had suggested they get going, and Miles had protested, nearly knocked the guy out when he went to help Miles from the bar. Bass made the same suggestion and Miles, eyes unfocused, had looked up, a drunken smile on his face, and just said, "Okay, Bass".

Bass managed to get Miles into the bed, but wasn't prepared for Miles to pull him down, too.

"Miles."

Miles wrapped his arms tightly around him and buried his face in Bass' neck.

"Sorry…don't leave," Miles mumbled. "Stay…don't deserve it…Please…Just - "

His voice broke on the last bit and Bass felt Miles' tears wet his neck and shoulder.

"It's okay, Miles," Bass whispered as he held Miles close to his body, wrapping his arms more securely around his friend. "I've got you. It's okay."

Bass held him. It started softly, but slowly his body began to shake with the power of the sobs that tore through his body. Bass could tell Miles was fighting his need to let go and he felt his own tears wet his cheeks when Miles' need overtook his stubbornness and Miles let out an inhuman sound that tore Bass' heart into tiny little pieces. After that, Miles' sobs subsided into small little hiccups and shudders. Bass held him the whole time, rubbing his back and whispering nonsense he hoped was soothing. Bass held him until he fell asleep and then he carefully disentangled himself and went to eat some of the cold dinner one of the men had left for him on the table. When he was finished, he poured himself a drink and sat down in front of the fire, alternating between watching the flames dance in the fireplace and the peaceful rise and fall of Miles' chest. After a while, Bass went quickly back to his office to grab the last bit of work he needed to do and brought it back to Miles' room. He settled in at Miles' desk and forced himself to work, even if he actually spent more time watching Miles sleep than working.

 

"I want Ben's boy brought in alive," Miles announced.

Bass blinked his eyes open, momentarily disorientated. He'd fallen asleep at Miles' desk. Miles placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and Bass smiled. He took a few sips before he focused on Miles. Miles, who if it weren't for the dark circles under his eyes, looked as perfect as ever. It was as though the man hadn't nearly drunk himself to death then sobbed himself to sleep. Bass hated him a little for that ability, but he knew how much Miles was hurting. The crisp uniform was a façade, a shield against the world.

"You want what, Miles?" Bass asked, better able to focus now that he was actually awake.

"I want Neville to bring Ben's boy in alive."

"He will."

A dark look entered Miles eyes. "Like he did Ben?"

"Miles - "

"No excuses, Bass. Neville's a good officer. He knows how to bring someone in alive. Ben's dead. I don't want his son to be dead, too."

"We don't know what happened."

"I just want to make sure the men can still follow a simple order. I want the boy brought in alive."

Bass bit back the first dozen responses that came to his mind. He knew Miles was hurting, knew he was blaming himself, knew he was blaming Bass, Neville, fate and anyone else he could think of. Most of all, he knew Miles was trying to keep it from affecting his decisions, was trying to not lash out at everyone around him. Part of him wished Miles would just take a swing at him and get it out of his system.

"I'll send out a rider with the orders," Bass answered. "While we're talking about this, I found something else after you - fell asleep. Ben's daughter went to Chicago looking for you, and learned that you'd gone with the militia to Philly. Tom had his son break off from the main unit and follower her. He sent a report saying Charlie and two other people were making their way to Philly."

"Same orders. Not a scratch."

Bass nodded and pulled two pieces of paper from the top drawer.

"Don't tell them I’m back," Miles said.

Bass looked up, saw the set of Miles' jaw and nodded. Bass felt sorry for Neville because Miles just might kill him and there wasn't a damn thing Bass was going to do about it. This was completely Miles' call and he'd stand by Miles no matter what he decided.

"I didn’t know you’d still even be looking for him," Miles asked.

"What?"

"Ben – the power. I thought you would have given that up."

Bass met Miles’ gaze. “Rachel isn’t being any more forthcoming. We hadn’t given up on trying to find Ben, we couldn’t afford to.”

Miles nodded.

"I'm surprised you didn't take her with you."

"I tried. She wouldn't come with me. Called me a coward. She wasn't wrong."

Bass agreed, but kept his mouth shut.

"She won't help us. Not with Ben dead."

"She'll help, Bass. We'll have her kids."

Bass stared at Miles. He couldn't possibly be serious. Even before he'd left, Miles had been skeptical about the power, about his family's involvement and now he was just on board with using Rachel's kids against her? Bass had assumed using Rachel would be a stipulation with Miles; he had convinced himself Miles would ask him to release her, let her go home to her children. He'd been ready to make it happen.

"She wouldn't have stayed, Bass. If she didn't know anything, she wouldn't have stayed. If there's a way to get the power back on, we can't let the other militia's get their hands on it. They'll massacre us. Maybe the rumors of us having access to power will help keep the borders under control. Or it'll make it worse, make the other areas more desperate to take us while they can. Either way, we need to know what she knows because someone out there sure does."

"You know we've got to tell her about Ben."

"She's going to kill us."

Bass nodded. He finished his coffee and stretched his sore muscles. It was time he quit falling asleep at the desk. He put his jacket back on and led Miles to the east wing where Rachel had been living since Miles had left. Bass had hoped that moving her into better accommodations would make her more cooperative, and, not that he would ever admit it, but he liked having a Matheson close…even if it was _her_. He pulled a key from his pocket and undid both locks. The door swung in and Bass motioned Miles into the room. When Miles glared at him Bass smirked.

Rachel stood from the desk and tried to hide her surprise at seeing Miles standing in the room, but her poker face wasn't as good as Miles'.

"Rachel."

"Miles."

Bass watched them stare at each other, as though they were having a conversation. He wondered what was going through their minds as they looked at each other.

"Why'd you come back, Miles?"

"I never should have left. I'm needed here; it's my home."

"I think I liked you better as a coward."

"Rachel," Miles began, voice softer than it had been. "Ben's dead."

Rachel launched herself at Miles; Bass didn't see it coming, didn't have any time to react. Miles deflected her attack and twisted her arm into a painful hold Bass knew all too well. It was a trick Miles had spent a long time trying to teach him.

"Stop it, Rachel. I don't want to break your hand, but I will."

She stopped struggling and Miles released her.

"What happened?"

"We don't know," Miles answered.

"You bastard. You promised."

"I promised you'd see your children again, and you will. They're both on their way here."

"What?"

"You're going to tell us what you know if you want to see your children when they get here."

Bass felt a chill go down his spine, both Miles' tone and his demeanor which darker than he'd seen a long time.

"Why stay if you didn't know anything? Why not go home to your kids? It didn't make any sense. Ben would kill me for saying this, but he’s dead – you were always the smart one, Rachel. I know you, better than I wish I did. You know how to turn the lights back on and you'll tell me everything."

"Don't hurt them, please."

"That's up to you."

Miles left the room without saying anything else. Bass offered a slightly apologetic smile to Rachel mostly because he hadn't expected the conversation to be quite so confrontational.

"Congratulations, Bass," Rachel spoke just as he'd opened the door.

He glanced back at her.

"You've got the General back."

Bass didn't know what to say, didn't really know what she meant, only that it made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. One thing he'd learned as a child was to never underestimate a Matheson, and even though Rachel was married in, she was a Matheson through and through. It now seemed that the gauntlet had been thrown down, although Bass couldn't decide if it was Miles or Rachel who'd thrown it.

Miles wasn't in his room, but all the paperwork had been cleared from the desk so Bass assumed Miles had just moved all the stuff to his, their, office. In many ways, the idea of them each having a room was redundant, as they would typically fall asleep together in whichever room happened to be more convenient. While they did most of official business in Bass' rooms, it was merely because they were closer to the main entrance and bigger.

He entered his office just as Jeremy was taking a swing at Miles. Which to Bass' surprise, Miles allowed.

"That, you bastard, was for leaving," Jeremy said.

"Glad to see you, too,” Miles remarked as he wiped the blood from his lip with his thumb.

Bass watched, an amused smile on his lips, as Jeremy pulled Miles into a hug.

"It's good to have you home," Jeremy said.

Miles nodded. "You have a report?"

Bass and Jeremy exchanged a glance. Miles was indeed back and it was comforting to know that Bass wasn't the only one a bit surprised by the speed with which Miles had reassumed his mantle. While he was pleased to have Miles back, a part of him couldn't help but feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. This had all been too easy. Experience had tempered some of his more optimistic views on life.

"Yeah," Jeremy began as he walked over to the desk.

The three of them settled around the desk and Jeremy pointed to a spot near where he'd found Miles.

"After I found Miles, we went back to tracking the missing sniper rifle. We caught up with a group of rebels in St. Anne. They had a sharpshooter up on the roof taking pot shots at us all night and even though we killed him when the bastard ran out of bullets, we didn't catch the rebels. They'd tunneled out of the building during the night, but we caught up with them at the bridge out of town. Until they blew it up, the whole bridge - gone. By the time we found a different way across the river we'd lost their trail."

"The whole bridge?" Miles repeated.

"Yeah, not many people have the skills for that."

"Nora," Miles whispered.

"Are you sure?" Bass asked.

"Has to be. Who else could pull off something like that? What's she doing with rebels though?"

"Her sister's been bounty hunting for us," Bass commented. "She made some sort of deal with Sergeant Strausser."

"Bring them in," Miles said as he moved away from the desk. "We can't let her work with the rebels and we need that rifle back."

"You think you can convince her to work with us again, Miles?" Bass asked, skeptical.

Miles' eyes were dark with something that almost looked like regret. "We'll have the best hostage. She won't have a choice."

"Miles - "

"Look, Bass, we've got to stop the rebels. Their increased activity's making the other militias grow bold. It's easier to get rid of the rebels than it is to fight a war on two borders."

Bass nodded. He knew Miles was right, but he also knew that Miles and Nora had been _close_. Just as he and Rachel had been _close_. It worried him that Miles was so quick to betray them all. It wasn't personal, not for Miles, he was too practical for that; unfortunately, that only made Bass more concerned.  

"Have Strausser bring Mia in," Bass told Jeremy.

Bass waited until Jeremy left before he turned to Miles, a slight frown on his face. Miles couldn't see him, he was standing by the window looking out at the empire they'd built.

"What?"

Bass smirked. Even as tired as his voice sounded, Miles still knew him better than anyone.  

"You don't have to try so hard, Miles. You're back and that's enough for me. We can find another way to get the gun and stop the rebels. You can let Nora go."

Miles turned to face him. "You know we can't. This is bigger than Nora and my…relationship with her. I can't be both men, Bass. I just - " Miles broke off and turned back to the window.

Bass walked over to Miles and placed his hands on Miles' shoulders, gently kneading the tight muscles. He understood what Miles was trying to say, and even though it hurt him to admit it, he understood. Miles needed to be General Matheson without any sort of compromise, but Bass couldn't let him do that because if he did, it would either kill him or make him run away again. Bass wouldn't live through either of those outcomes. Miles' reasons for leaving didn't disappear just because he’d come back. They were still there and needed to be dealt with, not ignored and shoved away, which was exactly what Miles was doing. It wasn't just Nora, it was Rachel and what Bass feared Miles would do when the Neville's returned with the remainder of his family.

"We can lead the Republic without becoming monsters," Bass whispered, as much to himself as Miles. "Together, we can make sure we both do what is necessary to keep the people safe, to protect our borders, but we don't have to lose ourselves in the process. Things are bad right now, they got worse after you left, and it will take time, but together, we can make it better. You don't have to become the villain, Miles. Not for me."

Miles turned around and Bass' arms fell to his sides.

"I know, and I wish it wasn't Nora. I wish it wasn't Rachel, but it is. Nora didn't join up with the rebels on a whim. I need to know why. And you're right," Miles smiled. "We have to do this without becoming monsters."


End file.
